Respecting the awesome power of words!

Posts tagged “inspiration

Dry Sockets

IMG_7537Photo by Dan Tice

 

When the tears don’t fall,
yet you feel their weight inside,
pressing like the weight
of additional atmospheres,
yearning to find
the equilibrium of release,
I wonder if they’ll create
an alternate route of escape.

Might they rise
through the vocal chords,
their savory blend
evoking tender words
of compassion for others
who are hurting?

Could they escape
through fingertips,
forming stories of hope
and courage for those
on and beyond the margins?

What if they caused muscles
and ingredients to merge,
so that comfort food
was prepared and shared
with people neck-deep
in their own grief?

Where else have you
felt them leaking grace
into the world?

© 2018 Todd Jenkins
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Breathing from the Bottom

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Principles can sometimes
become a rock
for when we cannot stomach
the fluidity and uncertainty
of relationships.

Unfortunately,
they have a tendency
to become millstones,
ridden as high horse,
all the way
to the bottom of the sea,
Titanic-like, demonstrating,
over and over,

that all the rules
we make and adore
run out of oxygen,

and the only way
to breathe as we rise
from the bottom
is to resolve
that love become
our ultimate guide.

© 2018 Todd Jenkins

Inked Blood

IMG_7269Photo by Danny Kelly

 

When a certain voice speaks
   from within us,
   breathing grace
   beyond our fathoms,

and pouring it
   into the parched cups
   of those around us,
   we sometimes quiver,
   if not quake,
   knowing full well
   the words are not ours.

We see, reflected
   in the still water dimly,
   that we are merely
   a quill through which
   the inked blood flows.

© 2018 Todd Jenkins

Prophetic Courage

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Without separation
  and distance,
  truth will not
be spoken to power.

When the church’s bread
  is buttered by empire,
  the gospel’s call
    to interconnection
    with those at and
  beyond the margins
  is lost,
as are the church
and its members:

🎼I once was found
  but now I’m lost;
  could see, but now
    I’m blind.
    Dear Lord, help me
  to count the cost;
  prophetic
courage find!🎼

© 2018 Todd Jenkins

 


Rhythm

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As I watch the clouds spell 
their free-form Morse Code, 
that may as well 
be hieroglyphics, 
against the evening sky, 

I ponder what divine 
smoke signals are being 
puffed across the heavens, 
wooing us toward 
sacred truths 
too deep for words. 
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Having attempted 
to will myself 
into focus 
far too many times, 

I decide, instead, 
to merely pay attention 
to what’s in front of my face, 
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refusing the self-chastisement 
of distraction, 
choosing, instead, 
to nod toward the gap, 
and continue drawing in 
the cosmos’ breath. 

Are you inhaling 
and exhaling 
God with me? 

Such is the rhythm 
of life. 
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© 2018 Todd Jenkins

Unfolding

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Photo by Gay Jenkins Howell

 

    We cast our prayers,
    O God, toward
    the bank of the river
    that seems most solid,
    most under control;

   and then earth shakes,
   and water surges,
   swirling us toward
   unstable stacks
   of unknowns
   and uncontrollables.

  Give us courage
  to float toward
  whatever happens,
  confident in your
  in-the-flesh promise
  to be present
  to and with us
  no matter what unfolds.

 These, and all prayers,
 we offer in the name
 of God-with-skin-on,
 Jesus, the Christ. Amen.

© 2018 Todd Jenkins


Blue

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  “Blue” she says,
cracking that wry smile
  of duplicity, knowing
that it’s my favorite color,
  yet the color of depression,
yet the hue
  of the firmament’s glory.

Through yonder hole
  in clouded angst,
an azure sky peeks,
  unlocking its promise
of hope tinged with despair;

  reminding us
that the cosmos will not —
  cannot — be impeded
by confusion or anesthesia
  or anxiety or fear
or any other collusion
  of diminishment;

revealing the truth
  of life’s trough
and peak continuum
  along which we all ride,
sometimes roller coaster-like,
  and sometimes as gingerly
as a Sunday saunter
  across familiar,
gently rolling hills.

  Riding the wind,
be it gale-force
  or a gentle flutter,
I try to remember
  to tilt my gaze upward,
especially when the shadows
  hang long and dark,
and the road tilts steep.

  “Blue”, indeed.

© 2018 Todd Jenkins

Acts of the Apostles

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When all the xenophobic ooze
has been pressure washed
from beneath the rocks
where it hid for generations
and swept off the streets
where it has surfaced,
there will come a reckoning.

We can’t just stand by,
silent, while all this hate
and fear foments.

We must act
with integrity and courage.

 Here are some
of the questions
that are being asked:

What happened
to our elected officials?
What happened
to our families of faith?

Unless we act decisively
and immediately, our faces,
our names, our reputations
will go down as ones
who sold out our country
and its people.

Is this the way
we want history
to remember us?

Is this the seed
God planted
in our hearts?

© 2018 Todd Jenkins

Plowed Deep

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Education is a long-haul plow
  set deep and pulled meticulously
    through many fields,

some scattered thick with rocks,
  some rich with earthy humus,

some as thin and stripped
  as shed snake skin,

all tended equally
  with the care of one
    who dreams
      of bumper crops
        in every silo.

Despite what modernity proclaims,
  the shallow seeds it plants
  in multiple-choice gardens —

like quickly sprouting grass
  in measured rows
    of paper cups
      lining the window sill —

            are insignificant when held
            against the space it creates
         for other roots to one day plunge
            toward the aquifer of love
             in search of nourishment
                  for the flower
             of peaceful coexistence,
                  and the fruit
          of shared respect and dignity.

© 2018 Todd Jenkins

Moon River Psalm

fullsizeoutput_21f4Photo by Jennie Roberts Jenkins

 

                 Deep into the feels
                 of my life, stung
                 by the hypocrisy
                 of my youth,
                 I’ve reeled and rocked
                 back and forth,
                 forth and back,
                 pretending to know
                 where I am going;

but in my marrow
I know that I don’t.

        There, in my midnights,
        even though
        there are stars in the sky,
        my eyes seldom tilt heavenward.

     Then comes the day
     when I wake up
     and realize how far
     along the river
     I’ve been carried,

   floating past
   so many dangers,
   shielded on every side.

      You, O God,
have been there all along,
      buoying me
through thin and thick,
directing me throughout
   my own oblivion.

© 2018 Todd Jenkins